


you know how i need you (to beat to a pulp on a saturday night)

by brotherfuckersanonymous



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 15:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14167488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brotherfuckersanonymous/pseuds/brotherfuckersanonymous
Summary: Bruce realizes there’s nothing much worse in this world than knowing someone likes you and you don’t like them back.





	you know how i need you (to beat to a pulp on a saturday night)

**Author's Note:**

> set near the end of season four in a slight canon divergence where jerome is working alone for the time being after escaping arkham. 
> 
> title is from don't leave me now by pink floyd

A ringing thump echoed in Bruce’s head when it made heavy contact with the brick wall. His vision was knocked askew, swimming and fuzzy for a second or two while he struggled to swallow a lump in his throat, fingernails digging into Jerome’s jacket sleeve. He couldn’t think of a decent quip, he could only seethe and tremble and clench his teeth. He heard the deafening sound of his own breath, too loud, too obvious as he held Jerome’s gaze. 

“Man, I thought that would’ve cracked your goddamn head open, you’re a little tougher than you look,” Jerome remarked, curiously not doing. . . anything. Bruce wondered what the hell he was waiting for. Jerome had him pinned up like a moth in a collection and it would be so, so easy just to stab sometime into the side of Bruce’s neck—

“Y’know, Bruce, I ain’t gonna kill ya.” Jerome looked down from Bruce’s eyes, going from nose to mouth to neck and back to mouth. It filled Bruce with some kind of strange disgust and discomfort, something reminiscent of what he’d felt around Silver forever ago, but it wasn’t something he could really identify. 

Stupidly, though, Bruce chose to speak up. “Why?” he asked, his voice strained and scratched. “You have to. You have me where you want me. It’d be idiotic just to — j-just to leave me here. I’d come back for you. Kill me.”

”Yeah, I got you where I want you,” Jerome said quietly. It was striking to hear: something that wasn’t a snarl or a matter-of-fact voice that masked excitement or glee or something sinister accompanied by a hideous laugh. It sounded almost normal. “Riiiiight where I want you. Brucey, there’s no way I’m gonna kill you now. I mean, yeah, I _will_ , duh, but not right now. I don’t wanna.”

Bruce couldn’t think of any kind of possible motivation Jerome would have to keep him alive. He didn’t seem to have a reason to barter with Jim Gordon or the GCPD at large or any other big name in Gotham or someone in Wayne Enterprises. Of course, there could’ve been something, because there had to be, but Bruce couldn’t decipher it. “Why?” he asked, trying to make it seem like a command, but he felt too weak from the crash against his head and the general ache and fatigue from picking a fight anyway. He sounded more like a boy instead of a man and he hated it. “Tell me why.”

”Bruce, come on, for real, you think I’m gonna knife you in some alleyway somewhere in Gotham’s asshole like I’m trying to take your money? That’s pretty much the most boring murder ever,” Jerome said, scoffing. “That’s not my style. No way. I want everyone in this fuckin’ city to know I popped your cherry, okay?”

Bruce couldn’t help but make a face before quickly masking it. “So — so let me go. We'll face each other on a stage. Somewhere everyone can see us perform. I know you’ll like that.”

Jerome smirked. “Yeah, I got plans, Bruce. Much as I hate thinkin’ of you as even more of some jailbait playboy than you are already, I’m gonna get you on TV.”

“Let me go first,” Bruce said through his teeth. “I won’t tell the GCPD where you are. Jim Gordon doesn’t have to know anything. Just let. Me. Go.”

”Sheeeesus, kid, will you pipe down? I seriously wasn’t thinking about what I was gonna do if I ran into you tonight. Gears are still turnin’ here. I need, uhh. . .” Jerome tilted his head a bit to the side, looking down at Bruce’s mouth again. “I dunno, something from you first. You’re not just gonna walk away whistling dixie, you get it?” 

Bruce gave an odd, sharp nod, mentally and physically preparing himself for some kind of blow, something that might knock out a tooth or make him bleed or give him a shining bruise, better than a memory. “Well — do what you must.” 

Something so much worse than that came when Bruce closed his eyes to ready himself. He felt chapped, thin, cold lips on his, pressed down hard and firm. Bruce’s eyes shot open again, cold fear and confusion freezing up both his body and mind at the same time. 

Bruce tried to stomp on Jerome’s foot, kick him as hard as possible in the shin, squirm away somehow so he could escape this sudden nightmare, but Jerome kicked him back and shoved his wrists back against the brick alley wall. Bruce’s stomach turned over when he felt Jerome’s tongue on his lips. 

Jerome licked over Bruce’s mouth and broke the kiss to nose against the side of Bruce’s neck, exhaling against his skin. Bruce had to bite his lip to keep from letting out a pathetic little whimper. No one and nothing had ever trained him on what to do in a situation like this. 

“We're gonna have a lot of fun, rich boy,” Jerome whispered. “I wish you were like me.” He lifted his head to press another, smacking kiss to Bruce’s mouth before letting his wrists go, stepping away. “I really do, Bruce. If you thought like me, well, uh, I think I’d probably fall in love with you, right? ‘Nighty-night.”

Jerome straightened his jacket, fixed his gloves, and turned on his heel, whistling cheerily as he left Bruce slumped against the brick wall, a cat slinking around the latter’s ankles. He stared after Jerome and lifted a hand to his own mouth, touching and gently scrubbing at his bottom lip. 

Bruce lingered against the wall for what he knew must’ve been too long. Rain began to patter around him, hitting and flying off cars that soared by outside the alleyway. 

Bruce wished he didn’t have quite so much as once to think about. 


End file.
